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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772952">shackles (you'll thank me)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstealmychocolate/pseuds/dontstealmychocolate'>dontstealmychocolate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Angst, Arguing, Depressed Simon Snow, I'm angsty, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentioned Agatha Wellbelove, Mentioned Penelope Bunce, Minor Spoilers, Not Beta Read, Poor Simon, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Sad Simon Snow, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Swearing, actually i can't tell you what to do because i'm a hypocrite, also i feel like writing a snowbaz song fic, arguing angst, as you can tell i have issues, constructive criticism is welcomed i want to improve!, don't swear if you're young kids, he deserves all the love and happiness, i can't write fluff i can only write angst, i love simon so much but i hurt him all the time, i use fuck way too much, i'm trying to evade studying oops, kudos and comments are appreciated, maybe i'll write a second part so that it's not so sad, mentioned doctor wellbelove, my friend screamed at me when she read this, penelope agatha and doctor wellbelove barely have any sentences dedicated to them i'm sorry, please do not read if you feel uncomfortable with the topics, poor baz, simon is a sad bby, so it's cringe and if there are inaccuracies i apologise in advance, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy, this is my first fic, this was an impulse decision</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:06:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772952</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstealmychocolate/pseuds/dontstealmychocolate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon knows his place in the world. He's the shackles that hold Baz's feet to the ground, preventing him from pursuing greater things. He knows he's a burden and that all he does is make Penny and Baz worry about him. He's finally ready.</p><p>He's ready to let them carry on, and this time, </p><p>it will be without him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>shackles (you'll thank me)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TRIGGER WARNING: if topics like suicide, self-harm and/or depression make you uncomfortable, please do not read this! your mental health comes first, always. if you ever need someone to listen, talk to or even if you just wanna be friends, hit me up on Instagram @/ ___.miaaa.___ - that's three underscores on both sides! I'm always ready to make new friends because I'm so socially awkward in real life *awkward thumbs ups* </p><p>Do know that you're never alone and that you're important to someone. You're important to me and I value you. If you ever feel alone you can talk to me :-)</p><p>I love all of you and hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Baz</p><p> </p><p>Simon Snow is on the couch.</p><p>He hasn’t gotten up since I left for classes in the morning. The TV is quiet in the background, and his eyes are glazed over, the bottle of cider dangling from his fingers. </p><p>His hair is unkempt, his sweatshirt rumpled, but Crowley, he still looks beautiful. </p><p>There’s this vacant look in his eyes; it’s been there since we got back from helping out at Watford. He had been beautiful in battle; arms taut with tension, face set in concentration, swinging at the goblins and merwolves and vampires, that hard glint in his eyes, the glint that reminded me of how he used to be before the Mage took everything away from him.</p><p>“Snow,” I say gently, not wanting to startle him. He doesn’t move a muscle, eyes blankly focused on the flickering screen, before he takes a swig from the bottle.</p><p>I set down my things and make my way to the back of the couch, reaching out a hand to graze my fingers against his locks. He practically flinches, and I draw my hand back. </p><p>“Do you want anything to eat? Scones, perhaps?”</p><p>Simon shrugs, his wings fluttering slightly as if trying to escape from beneath his body. He was lying on them, suppressing them with his weight. I sigh. Bunce has also tried, to no avail, to coax a few words out of Simon. </p><p>“You have to get up, Snow,” I say softly, pulling lightly at the sweatshirt. I realize with a pang that it is Agatha’s, even though I specifically laid out one of mine for him to wear. </p><p>He jerks back his arm as he gets up, stumbling backwards. “Don’t touch me,” he slurs, eyes lidded.</p><p>A cold, spindly hand wraps itself around my heart and squeezes as he watches me through wary glances.</p><p>Oh, Simon.</p><p> </p><p>Simon</p><p> </p><p>I just want to be left alone. </p><p>This feeling-it is eating me up from the inside, devouring every inch of the hope I had when my psychiatrist said that I would be able to get over it in a couple of months. That hope has fizzled out, and all that remains is the empty gap in my chest.</p><p>Tears burn my eyes as I try to hold them back. “Just…just stay back, Baz,” I murmur, his name bitter on my tongue. Saying his name and talking to him and looking at him and listening to him only makes my heart hurt more. It clenches now as if trying to squeeze the breath out of me. A flash of hurt crosses his face before determination sets in, seen in the furrow of his brow and the opening of his mouth.</p><p>I turn away, not wanting even a glimpse of those grey eyes, now as barren as can be. Because that is how I make him. Lifeless. Dull. Tired.</p><p>Rightfully so, no matter how much it pains me to admit. He deserves better. After all, I’m no mage. I’m a Normal with hideous dragon wings and a useless bloody tail. I sleep too much. I don’t think, I just lay on the couch and watch telly. Baz has a life on the outside of my suffocating bubble-he has university and friends who appreciate how cool he is and guys that’ll…treat him better.</p><p>I was right that day when I said that I would be a terrible boyfriend.</p><p>Baz surely thought it wouldn’t be this bad. Now, he’s just stuck with me because of his saviour complex and wanting to do right by me.</p><p>For now? Doing right by me would be leaving me alone.</p><p>But I know he won’t. He’s too stubborn for that and he’s only going to get hurt.</p><p>Hurt by me.</p><p>And so I walk away, only for my arm to be grasped by cold ones and I flinch, batting his hands away. </p><p>“I told you not to touch me!”</p><p>Baz’s breath catches. I see how his eyes flare with just the tiniest bit of anger and I breathe in. I knew it wouldn’t be long until Baz got mad, and then he’ll get tired. Tired of me.</p><p>And once he’s gone, I can leave.</p><p>For good.</p><p>“Do you want to speak to your therapist?” Baz asks calmly, brushing off any lick of emotion that could linger on his face. He pretends he isn’t affected. I pretend, too.</p><p>“I’ve already spoken to her,” I lie, crossing my arms. </p><p>He raises a brow. “Really? I find that hard to believe since she told me that the last you contacted her was a month ago. What are you playing at, Snow? Why have you been lying to me and Bunce?” There’s a spot of anger and his voice and I seek it out. If I want him to leave, I need to get him to the point of anger whereby he needs some time to cool off. Normally, that would be along the lines of two to three hours and by that time, I would be long gone.</p><p>“I don’t need to see a therapist, Baz. I’m perfectly fine.” </p><p>“You’re not fine,” he snarls, “You haven’t moved from the couch other than to go to the bathroom or get more cider in more than a week. You’ve been lying on the couch, just watching telly, while Bunce and I peer over you and make sure you’re okay. You’re not fine, Snow, and it’s only going to be worse without your therapist!”</p><p>“Then fucking leave,” I growl back. “I don’t need you here, okay? Just fucking leave and don’t come back because I don’t need either of you. I’m fine on my own.”</p><p>Baz blinks at me. “Do you really want that?” His voice is small, laced with hurt, and I feel like stabbing myself. But it’ll all be worth it in the long run. I just have to make sure he leaves.</p><p>“YES!” I shout, “It’s bloody exhausting to have to deal with you every day and I’m sick of it. Just leave me alone. This whole boyfriend thing was a fucking mistake and you know it.”</p><p>He stops, mouth gaping before a glint takes over in his eye and he shouts back, “You think I don’t know that? I’m tired too, Snow. I’m so fucking tired.” </p><p>As soon as the words leave his mouth, there is silence. </p><p>Those words hurt me more than I anticipated, but I had to show that I didn’t care. I had to get him out.</p><p>“Fuck off and leave, then! I don’t fucking need you, so get out!”</p><p>Baz looks like he wants to say something before the anger returns to his stormy eyes and he grabs his things and storms out, slamming the door behind him.</p><p>The tears roll down my face before I can stop them, and soon, I’m heaving from the sobs. This was what you wanted, I tell myself. It’s done.</p><p>I stumble into the room and take out the letters from inside my Watford uniform, the only thing I knew Baz wouldn’t touch. The letters are addressed to Penny, Baz, and a tiny one for Agatha. She might not read it, anyway. She didn’t like things like that.</p><p>I lay them down onto our bed and smooth out the creases, tears staining the paper and I quickly turn away, not wanting the ink to bleed. I make my way into the bathroom and lock the door, turning on the faucet so that water streams into the bathtub, a touch that Baz insisted we get when we were first picking out things to buy.</p><p>I take off my shirt and it drops onto the floor before I step into the water. It is now mid-calf deep, and so I turn off the water, the tears from my face causing little ripples. I look up at the sky and say my goodbyes.</p><p>And then I make the first cut.</p><p>Baz </p><p>I shouldn’t have left like the hotheaded idiot I was. I should’ve kept my cool. Snow’s going through a lot and he was just looking for a fight. I wipe the tears with the back of my hand and hurry back. I glance at my watch and see that it has been 15 minutes since I left. Hopefully, he allows me to apologize. I just want to wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder, and have his tail wrap around my wrist like it always does.</p><p>I just need Simon.</p><p>I fling open the door and call out for him, hearing nothing but silence in the flat. Had he gone over to Bunce’s? That seemed unlikely. I search the kitchen and the balcony, before flinging open our room door. I see that it’s empty and am about to leave when something catches my eye. It seems to be a couple of letters on the bed and so I walk towards it, befuddled that there would be one with my name on it in Snow’s messy scrawl. I tear the envelope open and pull out the paper, my eyes latching onto the first line before my heart seizes in my chest.</p><p>‘Baz, if you are reading this, that must mean I’m dead.’</p><p>“Snow!” I yell, the letter still clutched in my hand, heart palpitating. Crowley, no, Simon…</p><p>‘I’m sorry, but it had to be this way. You deserve better. Penny deserves better. And me?’</p><p>“SNOW!”</p><p>‘I deserve to die.’</p><p>My gaze swings around wildly before it latches onto the bathroom. I dash to it and jiggle the doorknob: locked. And then I hear it. The faint sloshing of water, and what blood I have inside me drains from my face. </p><p>‘You’ll probably be glad, and I’m not surprised, because I know I was a burden. In some ways, I still am, and I’m sorry.’</p><p>I dial Bunce’s number and she picks up, confused. “Baz? Where’s Simon? I can’t get him.”</p><p>“Fuck, Bunce, I-“ I gasp, throat closing up. “He’s gonna kill himself, Bunce. He’s gonna fucking kill himself and I wasn’t there to stop him.”</p><p>I don’t hear Bunce’s reply as the overwhelming sense of grief engulfs me, and I scream, hitting at the door until it bursts open.</p><p>‘I’m sorry I was a terrible boyfriend. I hope you find some wanker you’ll be happier with…who won’t cause you so much pain.’</p><p>And there he is. My Simon.</p><p>I choke back a sob.</p><p>‘Maybe one day you’ll think of me and smile, and remember what it was like to settle, and you’ll be glad I’ve done this.”</p><p>The water is red and the smell of his blood startles me, filling my senses with butter and caramel and just a tiny bit of smoke. I pull his head from the water. He doesn’t respond.</p><p>‘You’ll thank me.’</p><p>I’m casting spells after spells after spells, feeling Simon grow cold in my arms. “NO!” I howl, shaking him.</p><p>’But for now, let me thank you.’ </p><p>I press my fingers to his neck.</p><p>‘You are beautiful, Baz. You’re absolutely wicked.’</p><p>I lay him on the ground and rip off my shirt, pressing the cloth to his wounds, nose stinging.</p><p>‘You deserve the absolute world, and being stuck with me won’t even give you a fraction of it.’</p><p>My fangs slide down into place, my gums throbbing. I can’t find any strength in me to pull it back in.</p><p>‘You’re not a monster, I know that very well. Sure, you’re a bloody bastard sometimes, but you’re far from a monster.’</p><p>I think about the Normal method Agatha was prattling on about last week, and clasp my hands together.</p><p>‘You know who is the monster?’</p><p>I push down on his chest.</p><p>‘I’m the monster, Baz, and you can’t argue with a dead man.’</p><p>I push and I push and I push, the sound of his ribs cracking filling my ears, but I don’t stop.</p><p>‘I created the Insidious Humdrum. I destroyed New Hampshire. I killed the Mage.’</p><p>Hands shaking uncontrollably, I think of the next step.</p><p>‘I caused so much fear. I caused so much damage.’</p><p>I squeeze my eyes shut and tell my fangs to go the fuck in.</p><p>‘Ebb would still be alive if it weren’t for me.’</p><p>Tears are still stinging my eyes. Simon is still lying on the floor, surrounded in a pool of blood leaking from his arms. I wrap my bloody fingers around my wand and the wounds close up.</p><p>‘The Mage would still be alive.’</p><p>Simon still doesn’t wake up.</p><p>‘Lucy would still be alive.’</p><p>I scream, and my fangs slide back in.</p><p>‘Maybe your mother would still be alive if it weren’t for me.’</p><p>I press my mouth to his and breathe out.</p><p>‘You wouldn’t be a vampire. You wouldn’t have had to suffer.’</p><p>He’s no longer a furnace. I can’t feel his warmth.</p><p>‘And you would be the most brilliant, gorgeous magician alive, thriving without the shackles called Simon Snow.’</p><p>I pound on his chest again. Don’t you dare fucking leave me.</p><p>‘Because that’s what I am. Shackles.’</p><p>I can’t hear anything. It sounds like I’m underwater. Bunce kneels by Simon’s other side and chokes back a sob, shaking him.</p><p>‘And now,’</p><p>A hand pats my shoulder. It’s Doctor Wellbelove. He tries to move me away and I snarl at him.</p><p>‘You’re free, love.’</p><p>I’m still holding onto Simon’s hand.</p><p>‘Carry on, Baz. Carry on.’</p>
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